Ignorance is Bliss
by Secretly-A-Fangirl
Summary: Rumpelstiltskin took more than Milah's life and Killian's hand that day, he took their daughter as well. Aveena grew up believing that Rumpel was her true father with only minimal questions asked about it, but what happens when the stranger arrives in Storybrooke? Set in season one and will go into season two.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except Aveena/Morgan; everything else belongs to ABC/Disney. That being said, I hope you like this fic and I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. My character's name is pronounced Ah-Veen-uh.**

Rumpelstiltskin follows Milah and Killian aboard the Jolly Rodger, sneering at the Pirates in distaste. He wouldn't show the hurt that was building up inside him at the fact that Milah had chosen rum-soaked pirates over himself and their son. "Well, well, seems like you finally found a family you could never have with me." He walks past her and over to the railing, looking around curiously; enjoying the scared looks he caught the crew sending his way. Being the Dark One certainly had its advantages. Milah walked over to him after a moment, holding the magic bean between her thumb and forefinger. He wondered what she would do if she found out what had happened to their son; if she would go with him and help to find Baelfire or would she simply shrug it off and stay with the pirate?

Rumpel attempts to grab the bean, only for Milah to toss it to her lover; tall, handsome, with eyes bluer than even the bluest of ocean waters. Milah often told him that she wanted her child to have blue eyes like her father's; she may have just that if she stayed aboard this ship. "You asked to see it, now you have," the pirate says, clutching the side where Rumpel had injured him moments before. Rumpel looks down at the deck for a moment before meeting Milah's intense gaze again.

"Do we have a deal," she asks, voice no longer drawing him in like it had done years ago. "Can we go our separate ways?" Her hands rested on her hips, her frustration clear. After all, why would she want to make a deal with a monster like him unless it would result in the safety of her one true love?

"Do you mean, can I forgive you," Rumpel asks, beginning to walk around her, making her turn to keep him in her sight. "Can I _move on_? Perhaps, perhaps; I can see you are _truly _in love."

"Thank you." Milah turns to walk to Killian when Rumpel takes a step forward.

"Just one question." She raises an eyebrow, silently telling him to continue. "How could you leave Bae?" Using his magic, Rumpel takes some of the ropes under his control. "Do you know what it's like, walking home that night..." he ignores Milah's pleas for him to stop."...Having to tell _our son _that his mother was dead?" Guilt filters across her face for a brief moment.

"I was wrong to lie to you that night," she admits, a little reluctantly. "I was the coward—"

"You left him! You abandoned him!" Whatever reply she had was cut off by an infant's crying. Rumpel's golden eyes darts to where the crying is coming from and sees a young boy holding a child who couldn't be any older than six months. He notices the barely contained look of worry on Milah's face and that Killian's hand drops to where his sword used to be the moment the child is heard. So, he was right it would seem; the pirate and Milah had a child together. In a moment of pure rage, Rumpel plunges his hand into Milah's chest, grabbing her heart and uses his magic to restrain Killian until he has the still-beating organ ripped out. The sadistic grin that was on his face vanishes the moment he hears Milah tell Killian that she loved him; without hesitation, he crushes Milah's heart until it is nothing but dust. With a flick of his wrist, the child was settled in his arms, no longer crying, just staring at him with eyes the color of Killian's, but holding the same intensity of Milah's; what little hair the child had was a dark brown.

"Let go of my daughter," Killian growls, standing up his hand curled into a fist. "You've done enough damage here, you demon." Rumpel finally looks away from the child and back to the pirate, an evil grin settling on his face.

"I'll have what I came for now."

"You'll have to kill me first!" Rumpel levitates the child while he pulls out the sword he'd stolen from Killian.

"Ah, ah, I'm afraid that's not in the cards for you, sonny boy." Before Killian could react, his left hand was lying on the deck and blood was pulsing from the stump—he dropped to his knees with an anguished cry, gripping his wrist. Rumpel picks up the severed hand, still curled into a fist that he thought contained the magic bean, and rests the tip of the sword against Killian's shoulder. "I want you alive because I want you to suffer like I did." Like he still was. Killian picks up a silver hook and drives it into Rumpel's chest, surprised when the crocodile lets out a delighted giggle. "Killing me is gonna take a lot more than that, dearie." He throws the hook to the ground

"Even demons can be killed, I _will _find a way."

"Good luck living long enough." Rumpel takes the child into his arms again, laughing when Killian lunges towards him, disappearing and reappearing behind the distraught pirate. "And I'll even give you an incentive," he chuckles darkly—red smoke beginning to swirl around his feet and make its way up his body. "Your little daughter." With that, the imp disappears, hearing only a single piece of what Killian had shouted. The child's name was Aveena.

**Storybrooke, Maine**

I sigh, fidgeting in my seat as I wait for the school bell to ring and dismiss me for the day. Chemistry wasn't a good subject to have as a last hour class—no one could focus on the work as much as they should have; not that the periodic table was a hard concept to grasp, even if you were terrible at science like I am. Glancing at my phone to see the time, I fold my assignment in half and use it as a marker in my book. I'll finish the chapter review tomorrow in class that way I can spend more time in the shop with dad. A few seconds later, the bells rings and I dart out of the class and to my locker; putting up my chemistry book and taking out my messenger bag filled with a composition book, a library book, an old pocket knife, and an assortment of mechanical pencils.

As I walk down the street towards the Antique/pawn shop my father owns I put my ear buds in and push play on my iPod, humming along to a Cinema Bizarre song. After a long day learning about stuff I'll never use in real life—Algebra II, for example—it would be nice to look through the piles of antiques my father has collected over the years. Most people avoided him because...well, I don't know why exactly. Then again, he is my father, but the only thing off-putting about him is his temper and weird sense of humor. Either way, people tend to avoid me as well simply because I'm Morgan Gold, Mister Gold's daughter. What idiots. The bell above the shop door jingles as I walk inside with a bright smile on my face. Dad comes out from the back room, holding a silver chalice that looks to be older than anything I'd ever laid my eyes on. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was the Holy Grail," I smirk, laying my bag on the counter. Dad chuckles, his warm brown eyes glinting with amusement.

"How do you know that it's not," he counters, setting it on a small table near the front of the store. I cock my head to the side, pursing my lips in thought.

"Hmm, well, I guess it _might _be possible; you're an old man after all." I laugh again, hugging my dad tightly. "Well, I have to write a poem for English, so I'll see you in a few decades." He nods as I walk past the beige curtain and to his desk—cluttered with several valuable antiques. English was an easy class for me, but I couldn't write a poem to save my life.

**Gold's Point of View**

I watch the seventeen-year-old walk into the back room with a smile on my face. She had grown so much and I felt proud of her, even though she had developed some of her biological father's habits like stealing. Thankfully it was only a few candy bars and she hadn't got caught, but it made me mad that, even though she never knew the man, she was sometimes too much like Killian Jones for comfort.

It didn't help that she was practically the spitting image of the man, not looking much like Milah in the slightest; at least she had developed my taste of antiquities, though. It was difficult to raise her on my own, more so than I thought it would be, but I managed and I think I raised a woman to be proud of. "Such a good girl," I say softly, going back to polishing the Holy Grail.

**So, what do you think of it so far? There'll be mostly flashes of her growing up with Gold in the first half of this and the second half will delve into season two _if _it ever gets on Netflix.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Dark Castle**

I stare longingly out my bedroom window, holding my small kitten in my arms as the dark cloud of magic looms ever nearer. Papa told me what was going to happen before he allowed himself to be imprisoned, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I look down at the black cat, petting it softly. "Sometimes I think he cares more about other people's business than me," I say softly while going to my bed and lying down. The cat meows, snuggling closer to me for warmth. "When he gets obsessed like this it's like I fall into the background or something." The kitten, Fidget, licks my cheek before promptly falling asleep. At least he can sleep; I'll probably lay awake for hours again.

Careful not to wake Fidget, I get out of bed and walk down to Papa's spinning room. He basically lived in here for the most part; this is where he stored _everything, _including what I came in here to see: the Holy Grail. He'd gotten it from some knight or another that he made a deal with. It was so pretty—silver with a few jewels around the rim and sparkling even in the dim lighting. I look at my reflection, hoping to see even the faintest resemblance to the man I love most in this world; like usual, I put the cup down in disappointment. I looked nothing like my papa and I acted even less like him. Sighing, I walk over to a sword made for a great man and pick it up, brandishing it like my papa taught me. Excalibur was amazing; it was like the sword knew what I wanted to do.

Knowing that the curse was even closer, I begin to practice and hope that I will not forget how to wield the blade I hold. Papa had taught me about the Dark Curse; he told me not to panic, that he would find me in the land without magic that all of us would be transported to. Despite my fears, I was determined to make my papa proud and keep my mind of the curse so I do not give into my nerves. The night grows darker and I drop Excalibur as I fall to the ground unconscious.

**Storybrooke**

Groaning, I roll onto my side and hit the snooze button on my alarm clock; six-thirty was too early for a teenager to be expected to get up and learn shit. "Morgan," Papa calls from downstairs," get ready and I'll take you to Granny's." He probably has to collect rent or something. I take a quick shower and pull on strapless black dress, the front stopped just above my knees and the back was slightly longer, and my Nightmare on Elm Street jacket. Papa hated the dress, but I wore it because it was comfortable and classier than sweats and a Daryl Dixon tee-shirt. My wardrobe consisted of things I bought at Hot Topic and Blackheart.

"Ready," I tell him as I sit at the foot of the staircase in our house and slip on my black flats. Papa smiles, showing his two gold teeth, and holds out a hand to help me to my feet. "How's your leg today?" He shrugs as we walk out to his car, leaning on his cane a little more than usual.

"It's not too bad." I stop on the front steps of our porch with narrowed eyes and my arms crossed over my chest. Papa sighs in exasperation as he turns to face me once more, knowing this was going to be one of my stubborn days. "I swear to you, dear, it hurts no worse than it usually does, but standing around isn't going to improve it any no matter how hard you glare." I crack a smile at him as we climb into his car.

"Are we _completely sure _that my glaring doesn't work?" Papa chuckles, never taking his eyes off the road. "Papa?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't I have an accent like you do?" That question, among others, has bugged me all my life. I wasn't much like my papa no matter how hard I tried and I felt I disappointed him at times. Papa's brow creases in confusion and he shakes his head, sparing me a quick glance before returning his attention back to the road.

"You didn't grow up in Scotland like I did, you grew up here in Maine." Well, I guess that makes enough sense for the moment. Nodding, I let the subject drop and we spend the rest of the drive in silence. "I wonder whose car that is." I look out my window and see a beat-up yellow VW bug in the parking lot of Grannies.

"Breakfast time, Papa," I quietly remind him, opening my door and getting out, quickly grabbing my book _The Book of Mordred _before I shut the door and follow papa inside the restaurant. I order my usual—scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and a Mountain Dew. I had to hurry through breakfast because the tech bus would pull into the school parking lot in about five minutes and papa doesn't like me skipping. Great, another day to be surrounded by the complete idiot known as my classmates.

* * *

"So, are we still going to see a movie after dinner or has something come up?" Papa often had business to deal with and we rarely got to do fun things together away from his shop or home.

"Of course, Morgan; what movie is it again?"

"The Croods." Chuckling, he moves some of his brown hair out of his face. I'd seen the movie twice already, but papa's only seen the commercial. He nods his head, gesturing for me to finish eating so we can have time to get snacks before the movie starts. As we walk up to the register to pay I notice a blonde woman is already there talking to the owner that everybody in Storybrooke knows as Granny. "Swan, Emma Swan," she smiles so Granny can write it down for a reservation.

"Hmm," Papa smiles, gaining everyone's attention," Emma. What a lovely name."

"Thanks," Emma says, looking a little creeped out. Yeah, papa had a tendency to cause that reaction in a lot of people sometimes.

Granny hands papa a roll of money for rent, meaning tonight's dinner was basically a free one. "It's all here," she assures him.

"Yes, of course it is, dear, thank you." He turns to face Emma again. "You enjoy your stay, Emma." I smile at Granny, Ruby, and Emma shyly before following papa outside to his car. I couldn't help but think of Belt when he says _dun dun dunnnnn_. That just seemed appropriate for the setting.

**I know it's short, but my muse is trying to betray me by going over to Pirates of the Caribbean; more specifically, James Norrington and Cutler Beckett.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Dark Castle**

Rumpel looks down at the small bundle in his arms, unsure what to do with the child now that he has it. He hadn't held a child this small in years, not since Bae. The longer he stares at the infant girl, the more he sees Killian Jones and the happier he feels at having broken the man. Now, what's better than him thinking his little girl was dead? That would be raising the child to think Rumpel himself was the child's father. He chuckles, beginning to feel giddy about it all.

"Now, shall I keep your name or change it," he asks the little girl, who gives him a happy giggle, reaching up to grab at his nose with her tiny hands. "Aveena it is, then." She giggles again before letting out a small yawn. With a wave of his hand, a bassinet appears and he lays the child inside, covering her with a blanket to keep her warm. Rumpel walks over to his spinning wheel, content to spend the rest of the night forgetting, but after only five minutes Aveena begins to cry.

What's wrong with her? Surely her bassinet is comfortable, she can't be too cold or too warm...As Rumpel gets to the last item on his mental checklist his eyes widen in realization—she's hungry. Of course, how could he have forgotten about one of her basic needs like that? His nose crinkles in disgust at another thing he hadn't thought of; the process that happens not long after the child ate. With a shrug of his shoulders, he calls upon one of the women that owe him a favor, the small bundle in his arms. "D-dark One," the woman stutters, brown eyes going wide with fear.

"Trista," Rumpel grins," I do believe you owe me a favor." She nods, eyes darting between him and the child crying in his arms. "You will move in with me as the person in charge of taking care of this child's specific needs, do you understand?" Trista nods again, looking over her shoulder at the black and white cat.

"C-can I bring my pet?" Rumpel raises a brow at the mangy animal, but he figured that it could one day give Aveena a kitten of her own that she may like, so he nods and turns his back on the dark-skinned woman.

"Do try to hurry, Dearie, don't need the baby catching her death." Trista nods while scooping up her cat and following quickly after Rumpel, nearly tripping on the long, tattered skirts of her dress. "A little faster." Rumpel was growing impatient and the child's fussing was giving him a headache. He hold the squirming bundle closer to his chest so as not to drop her. Once Trista is at his side, he uses his magic to take them back to his castle, now ready to spin without worrying too much about Aveena.

**Storybrooke**

I smile at my English teacher while taking my test from her. Miss Carmichael was a nice woman that often came by my father's shop to help me with my speeches I have to write for my speech and drama class. Her kind, yet nervous, brown eyes move from student to student as we take our vocabulary test. I was the first finished, so I pick up my library book and begin to read while I wait for the others to finish, though I am unable to concentrate one it. Everytime I saw a few people, I get this annoying feeling that I should know them—like an itch I am unable to scratch. I close my book again, looking around me, but not paying attention. A voice on the intercom makes me jump. "Miss Carmichael, I need Morgan in the office, she's checking out."

"Alright, I'll send her down." Miss Carmichael smiles at me, helping me to gather my things before I walk to my locker and then to the office, wondering why I was being checked out early. Papa grins at me, meeting me just outside the building.

"What's going on," I ask, walking with him to the car. "Did something happen?"

"I just thought you'd like to see something." I frown, buckling my seatbelt as he begins to drive. I know this road well, it'll take us to the clock tower and just a bit farther is the docks, where I like to spend some of my free time. What I see as papa puts the car in park is a total shock to me. The clock was working again.

**You can buy the Daryl shirt I mentioned in the last chap at Hot Topic. I know that it was mostly her past that you saw in this chapter, but I intended for it to be that way.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yes, dear readers, I am alive, though I'm on some pain killers...Sorry if this chap comes out a little, ya know, weird.**

**Dark Castle**

Aveena was shy, no matter how much her father tried to break her of it. It seemed to be her curse—at fifteen she still had no man asking to court her. She never once blamed her papa for it, but she was beginning to realize that he had a lot to do with it. Every now and again a young man would show up and her papa seemed to have no problems with either scaring them away or turning them into some type of animal; one man he actually turned into a rat! What was so wrong about the fact she wanted to start her own family?

She rarely brings the subject up to him for fear of his temper, having already been struck once before, though he regretted it and apologized profusely. That was why she was walking through the woods and looking for the clearing by a stream; waiting for her there would be Thomas, the son of a well-liked knight. If Rumpel found out about these secret meetings she would surely be punished and Thomas would more than likely be killed. He smiles as Aveena approaches him, hazel eyes shining brightly with love—or what she assumed was love. "Hey," he says, giving her a quick kiss on her cheek.

**Storybrooke**

Have you ever had one of those afternoons where the planets have aligned and you just know the rest of the day is gonna be hell? Yeah, that's today for me. I lost my voice, didn't do last night's Algebra II homework, and, to top it all off, a car nearly ran my ass over! God, I'm tempted to just skip the rest of school today, but the school would call papa and then I'd get a lecture from him—no thanks, I'll pass on that. Sighing, I pull my bag closer to me before running across the street to the high school building. Eli walks over to me with a grin, wrapping his arms around my waist and giving me a quick kiss on my lips. He's the only one that's not afraid to be around me because of who my papa is, he's also my boyfriend. "How are you feeling," he asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we head to our lunch hour.

"I've been better," I say as loud as I can, voice letting out a small squeak. He chuckles at me, hazel eyes lighting up with amusement. Scowling, I smack his shoulder, though I knew it wouldn't hurt him in the slightest. Not only was Eli captain of the fencing club, he was also a football player, though nowhere near first string material—not as big as some of the others, but still bigger than I am. "I think I might go home at lunch if I don't feel any better."

"Maybe I'll go with you, after all, that squeaky voice of yours is pretty funny," he quips and I smack his shoulder again with a laugh. "Seriously though, I'll drive us to your house right now and we can eat some Sonic and watch TV until time for your dad to come home; that's when I haul ass outta there." He gives me a smile, leading me towards the student parking lot, and gently pushing me into the front seat of the beat-up, white Mustang his parents gave him last year. "You'll want your usual, I presume?"

"You presume right," I nod.

**Gold's Point of View**

When I came home for the night I didn't expect to see my daughter and some young man tangled together on the couch while a Queen song was playing in the background. I make a point of dropping the takeout I'd brought home loudly onto a side table by the couch that I would have to burn later. The two teens jump, the boy tumbling into the floor as Morgan shoots upright, cheeks flushed and going darker once she realizes just who it was that caught her. The boy stands up; growing pale when he catches the glare I'm giving him. "Uh, um, I'll see you later, Mor—Miss Gold," he stutters, grabbing his tee shirt and running out of my house quicker than I've seen any teen move in quite a while.

Morgan brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them with a glare sent in my direction. "Way to go," she growls, taking her dinner and marching up the stairs in a huff. I'll never understand teenagers, let alone teenage _girls_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Dark Castle**

Aveena slowly walks through the market, looking around for her papa or even Trista, but found neither of them. Rumpel had instructed her to stay near him as they navigated through the thick crowds, him with the cowl of his cloak hiding him from view so that he is not recognized. He didn't want very many people to know that he had a child because he knew the seven-year-old could be used against him. Somehow, she had been separated from the two adults.

Few people looked at the struggling child, but she managed to catch the eye of one; one who recognized her almost instantly. The man stalks towards her hurriedly, not wanting to lose sight of her when he was so close to having his baby back. Killian put a hand on the child's small shoulder, gently turning her to face him with a warm smile on his face. He squats down so that they are almost eye to eye. "Are you lost, sweetheart," he asks, seeing a spark of curiosity in her blue eyes—eyes that were an exact copy of his own.

"Yeah, I can't find my papa." Aveena is close to tears now, meeting the stranger's gaze every now and then. Her papa had told her not to talk to strangers unless it was absolutely necessary or he told her to himself, but she felt something about this stranger that she hadn't with her papa and it was strange.

"What's your name?"

"Emilia," she answers without hesitation. Her papa also told her never to reveal her true name. "What's yours?"

"Emilia," a worried voice shouts, one she recognized and ran off in the direction it came from. Killian stood up and spotted his daughter run to a cloaked figure and a woman. His eyes narrow into angry slits and his remaining hand clenches into a fist—unfortunately, before he could charge forwards and take his revenge and daughter, the trio disappear into thin air and he was back to square one.

**Storybrooke**

Gold chases after Morgan, wanting to know exactly why she and that boy were tangled together on the couch and why the school had called and informed him that his daughter had decided to skip after her tech classes were finished. "Morgan," he shouts upon finding the teen's bedroom door shut and locked," open this door!"

"No!" He rolls his eyes at the teen's childish response, remembering a time he had to remove the door to make it where she couldn't lock him out in fits of rage; she was only seven back then and here she is doing it again at seventeen. "Just leave me alone and let me eat." He notices she not shouting like he expected and that her voice tended to squeak every now and again.

"Morgan Elizabeth Gold," he growls," open the door or I'll open it myself." He gets no response, hearing the TV in her room coming on and the familiar sound of Supernatural playing in the background. One of his hands reach up to feel around the top of the doorjamb, grabbing the key to her room and inserting it in the lock, walking inside much to his daughter's annoyance. "Now, tell me what you thought you were doing with that boy down there and why you skipped all of your afternoon classes." He was having a hard time to keep from yelling at her because yelling only mad her angrier and more defensive.

"Laryngitis tends to make people want to skip," she croaks with a glare in his direction before facing the flat screen again. "As for the other question I think it was kind of obvious, don't you?" He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down before he throttled the teen, having seen the fear in her eyes when the boy was kissing her jaw.

"I know when you're lying, Morgan." She doesn't look at him or give him any sort of response. "Did...Did that boy force himself on you?" Her eyes narrow slightly and her lips form a frown. He sits beside her, leaning his cane against her bedside table, smiling slightly when he notices her cat curled up in bed beside her. He hated to admit it, but the creature was beginning to grow on him. "Were you only doing that because he told you to?"

"Of course not," she answers a little too quickly," I've been dating Eli for a while now." She still doesn't look at him, gaze switching from a grinning Dean Winchester to Fidget, the black cat of hers. It meows, moving to curl up in her lap; intelligent green eyes looking at Gold as if to say _D__rop it, old man. _"Can I just be left alone now?"

Gold sighs, squeezing one of Morgan's shaking hands, and getting to his feet with the help of his cane. Stopping at the door, he turns to face her. "Tell me when you're ready, dear, and I'll make sure Eli never bothers you or even thinks your name again." She just keeps looking at her pet as tears began a slow trek down her cheeks. He felt a sharp pang in his heart that he could nothing right now to help his little girl, wishing desperately that she had stayed an innocent four-year-old forever so that her only worry was missing the Saturday morning cartoons she was so fond of.

**Morgan's Point of ****View**

I wipe away my tears once papa leaves and shuts the door behind him, only to have more tears take their place. I hadn't cried about my situation for a year, but papa had to go and stir things up again. I'll have to apologize to Eli later and I fear what he might do as punishment. I shudder, placing Fidget on the bed beside me and walking into my bathroom, deciding a long, hot shower would do nicely. The scalding water might wash away the feeling of Eli's hands on her body for now, but it wouldn't take away the nightmares. He was part of a prominent family in Storybrooke and knew he wouldn't stay in jail long no matter what. He doesn't love me no matter how many times he whispers it in my ear when we're alone.

I am trapped in his lies.


End file.
